


from cold to fire

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Yuletide Treat, because Tim, with a tiny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21919678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: "Do you want to go out with me?""What?"
Relationships: Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Comments: 28
Kudos: 341
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	from cold to fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pluvial_poetry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluvial_poetry/gifts).



> Pre-reboot. Title from Pablo Neruda. Thanks to S. for giving it a once-over.

Tim gets to the Tower early, hoping for some quiet time to do some research for a case, but the smell of burning plastic and the sound of cursing let him know he's not as early as he'd hoped. He skids into the kitchen with the fire extinguisher, but Kon's already used his super-breath to put out the fire. The microwave lists on its side in the sink, half-frozen and half-smoking, burned bag of popcorn visible through the open door.

"I swear, I didn't mean to set it on fire," Kon says.

"I know," Tim replies, though he knows no such thing. He's tired, and sometimes, it's just easier to roll with Kon's nonsense. "You're here early."

Kon ducks his head. "I wanted to talk to you before everyone else arrived."

Tim breathes in slowly, telling himself the sudden twist of nausea in his gut is due to the smoke and the burning smell in the air, and not Kon's words. He lets the breath out slowly, too. Quietly. Centering himself. "Okay."

"Uh." Kon looks at the mess in the sink and flaps a hand. "Maybe not in here?"

Tim nods. "Okay." 

He lets Kon lead him through the living room and down the hall; they stop at Kon's room and he pushes open the door. It's not quite the disaster Tim expects—not that he has a leg to stand on, since his room is always a wreck without Alfred here to clean it—but Kon shoves the clothes off the end of the bed and gestures for Tim to sit down. Kon sits at the head of the bed and turns to face him. 

There was a time he'd have been thrilled and awkward and optimistic about being invited into Kon's room, and there was a time it would have just been normal. It's been a long time since Tim felt anything like normal, or hopeful, or thrilled. Awkward, though, that he's still got, and he clings to it, fingers curled into tense fists. He avoids Kon's inhumanly blue eyes, tries to ignore the way his t-shirt clings to his broad shoulders and well-muscled chest, and gazes at a spot on his left ear—the piercings have long since healed up, but Tim finds himself missing the earrings sometimes. He misses how young and brash and sure they were, back before everything went wrong. 

"Am I being fired from the team?" he asks, bracing for more bad news, just as Kon says, "Do you want to go out with me?"

"What?" they both say. "You first."

Tim laughs then, an odd rusty sound, and then he can't stop laughing. It feels like it's been forever since he laughed this way, and there's a lightness in his chest that makes his eyes sting; it's so different from the hollow feeling he's carried around for so long. He's missed this too—him and Kon and awkward conversations. He wouldn't be surprised if Bart burst in on them—and that too is something that can happen again, even if he hopes it doesn't actually happen _right now_.

"I'm not—I'm not laughing at you," he chokes out. "I mean, I kind of am? But I'm laughing at me too. At us. Because we're—"

"Ridiculous?" Kon interrupts with a sheepish grin.

"Yeah, that." He holds out a hand and Kon takes it. He holds it like it's precious, like Tim's knuckles aren't scarred from years of punching things he probably shouldn't have punched, like Tim's cuticles aren't chewed ragged, and there aren't scars ringing his wrist.

"You're my best friend," Kon says. "And I don't want to lose that. I know the past couple of years have been rough, but I also want more. If you don't feel the same way—"

"I do," Tim blurts. "I mean—I do. I missed you so much, Kon. Everything was terrible but losing you was the worst." He finally meets Kon's gaze. "Is that too much? I don't want to make it weird." 

"Nah, man, it's already weird. The only thing that would make it bad was if you'd said no."

"Good thing I didn't do that."

"Yeah." Kon's grin is wide and bright and electric—Tim can practically feel it on his skin.

"So, what now?"

"Always thinking ahead."

"Yeah, that's me."

"While I'm always thinking with—mmph."

Tim leans forward and kisses him, which has the benefit of being the best idea he's ever had and also stops Kon from making a really awful joke. Kon's lips are soft and warm and the touch of them against Tim's sends a jolt of heat through him. He opens his mouth and Kon's tongue slides against his, wet and hot. He turns his hand in Kon's gently grip so he can hold onto Kon's wrist, and uses his other hand to grab the nape of Kon's neck and hold him close. He could easily escape, but he presses closer. He tugs Tim into his lap and Tim goes willingly, thighs splayed out over Kon's hips. They both gasp at the contact, Kon's chest heaving against his like the heroine of a romance novel. Not that Tim's any less breathless. 

It's so much—it's almost too much, with Kon's lips and tongue and hands and body—Tim feels like he's going to burst right out of his skin or go up in flames, just like the microwave. The thought makes him laugh again, and he presses his face to the crook of Kon's neck and shakes with it.

"Tim?" Kon sounds agitated. "Tim, are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no," Tim answers breathlessly. "I was just thinking about how you set the microwave on fire."

Kon pulls back and Tim can't help making a face at that. "You were thinking about the microwave being on fire while we were making out."

"Because you're so hot!" Tim can't help it—he starts laughing again, but this time, Kon laughs too.

"You're such a nerd."

"Yeah, you've said. Many times."

"But you're my nerd, right?"

"Yeah," Tim says. "I am."


End file.
